


COMFORTABLE LOVE

by thoughtsdemise



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014)
Genre: Fluffy Romance, M/M, T-Cest, m/m - Freeform, patching up an injury, very light petting, violence -Leo and Raph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing sexier than Donnie with glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	COMFORTABLE LOVE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cndrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cndrow/gifts).



> Did not realize your birthday was this Sunday; I thought it was October 14. Guess this can’t wait to be typed up. =D Here you go, dude!

Raphael grunts with effort to lift the 200 lbs of weight.  He can easily ignore Michealangelo yelling at the TV screen as his character died again in that Dead Souls game.  And he’s pretty much got the knack of ignoring Leonardo down to a true art form unless he wanted to be pissed off at his brother.  Raphael grunts again with effort and holds the weights high over his head, locking his elbows to keep the weight there.  He shuts his eyes to focus his mind as their father, Splinter had taught them.  Still the happy sigh and the familiar creak of a chair rolling back breaks his focus.  Donatello, the only one Raphael could never ignore no matter how intensely he tried.

“Fuck,” he mumbles and lets the weights drop.  He stalks over to the punching bag.  He easily ignore any disapproving looks the others shoot at him, but he does level a strong look at Donatello who was looking over the rim of those patched together glasses.  He ducks his head and tenses as he starts in on the punching bag.

Raphael works out all of his tension on the bag.  His calloused fists working the material with practiced ease.  So practiced he is able to split his attention.  It is no mistake that his path about the bag keeps Donatello in his line of sight the majority of the time.  His purple band flicked over the back of his shell as he leans in to work on whatever new project had caught his interest.  Raphael grunts and puts more force into his swings at the bag as Donatello’s tongue beeps out of his mouth in his concentration on that project.

Raphael shuts his eyes and finally gives himself over to the rhythm of his movements.  And no matter what Leonardo droned on about needing to be still to truly meditate, Raphael knew this was a form of meditation.  Splinter had not corrected him on it all those years ago when he had tried to explain it to Leonardo.  His father had just quirked that smile of his and let him do this as his own form of meditation from times to time.

‘Drove Leo up the wall too.’

Raphael easily moves through his steps.  The movement working to release the tension in his body and mind together.  Still the tip of that tongue filters through to capture his attention away from his course about the bag.

“Fuck,” he mumbles his breath again as the peace he had been searching for escapes him.

He redoubles his efforts on the bag with his fists and footwork.  Raphael focuses his mind on counting the number of his steps and impacts on the bag.  He pours so much of his attention to this task that his external surroundings begin to fade away completely.

“Raph.”

impact the bag...two steps left

“Raph!”

three steps right...impact the bag two times

“Raphael!”

Raphael’s reacts on instinct as his fist is grabbed.  He turns on the unknown and drives his elbow into a throat, driving the potential enemy into the nearest wall.  Raphael lips his arm a bit down so the back of his forearm presses into the throat, restricting any air flow.  His vision begins to clear as he reaches for a sai and raise it in one fluid motion.  He growls deep from his gut.  All focus now on the one who had grabbed him.

The gasping expression of Leonardo is just enough to cause Raphael to back of a bit so that he could take a full breath.  Leonardo remains pinned to the wall as Raphael glares him down.  Th snarp still on his lips as he slides the sai back into place at his waist.  He steps away from Leonardo but remains tense when nothing is said by his blue banded brother.

Raphael watches as Leonardo’s hands tighten into fists and the look in his eyes becomes like ice.  Raphael automatically responds with a defensive posture.  Neither move, and the air between them remains tense until a sound smack is delivered to both of their calves, dropping them easily.  A furry form stands over the pair, a walking stick striking the ground.

“Raphael.  Leonardo.”  The voice is cross and sharp.

Leonardo is quick to kneel before Splinter, his form low and apologetic.  Raphael is slower to respond to the verbal reprimand, but he kneels before their master as well.  His form not as deeply bowed as Leonardo’s, however.  This fact does not go unnoticed by said brother as Raphael is gruffed at by a guttural sound from Leonardo.  Which Raphael ignores.  Splinter does not correct either brother but does stand straighter to draw their attentions from the other.

Raphael does flinch internally out of long ago ingrained habit as Splinter takes a long breath and stares at both of his misbehaving boys.  The twitch of whiskers with the shake of a head followed by a long suffering “kids” and a roll of eyes has Raphael relaxing a few moments later.

And while Leonardo still looks rather unhappy, both brothers nod to Splinter before turning to bow in an apology to each other.  Though both keep the tenseness that colors their squabbling interactions.  Leonardo does stand and retrieve his sword which he had dropped from the impact with the wall.  Raphael does not miss the fact that the edge of the blade has a small amount of blood on it.

As if summoned by the thought, a sting echoes from Raphael’s thigh.  He glances only briefly down to take in the sword slash that had been bleeding.  He swings his focus back to Leonardo and stands, squaring his shoulders and not letting the pain or weakness show in front of him.

“Don, patch up the idiot please.”  Leonardo turns his back on Raphael, a slight to any who had a deep warrior’s pride.  Raphael only snorts and straightens at the “insult”.  He had learned long ago not to take such things to heart unlike Leonardo.  And he knew Leonardo was keeping an eye on him even if he was trying to act like he wasn’t.

Leonardo’s barked command finally sinks in for Raphael though, and he tenses when Donatello draws closer to him.

“Can see to it myself,” he is quick to mumble to ward off a touch from Donatello and as a balm to calm his heart and the way it sang at the thought of Donatello touching him.  He does flinch when Donatello goes to lean down for a closer look at the gash in his leg.

“Come on, Raphie.  What’cha gettin’ so shy for?”

Raphael shoots Michealangelo a nasty look.  He draws a hand into a tight fist when that shit-eating grin grew.  He knew that Michealangelo was more perceptive than anyone usually gave him credit for.  But Raphael would smack that grin off his face before he would let Michealangelo tease him any further.

A light touch draws wide eyes back down.  Raphael stares at Donatello.  He draws his lips tight as fingers are drawn over the bleeding wound.  He swallows his heart as Donatello smiles softly up at him and then stands up, way too close for Raphael’s current comfort.

“Come on, Raph.  You need a few stitches to close that up.”

Raphael holds his breath as Donatello rests a reassuring hand on his arm.

“We need to go to my workshop to clean it though.  Don’t know what kind of residue was on Leo’s sword,” Donatello says as he directs a look at Leonardo whose eyes narrow in response.

Raphael back up a step as Donatello pats his shoulder and turns to go to a closed off area of the lair.  He opens his mouth for one more protest, but Donatello had already taken the key for his lab out of his pocket and thrown an expectant look over his shoulder at Raphael as he steps inside.

Raphael swallows, throws Michealangelo a threatening look as the goofball snickers, and heads for the lab.  He could do this, he told himself resolutely even as that stray thought of Donatello’s tongue and what it must feel like tickled the back of his mind.

= = =

Splinter knocks his walking stick on the floor to draw Michealangelo and Leonardo’s attention.  “Come.  We need to retrieve diner.”  He heads for the door.

“Master?”

Splinter ignores Leonardo’s questioning look and Michealangelo’s snickering.  He continues on his path through the sewers, taking a difficult course to draw both of his sons’ attentions away from Donatello and Raphael.  He does turn enough to catch Michealangelo’s eye to return his youngest’s smile with a small knowing one of his own.

‘Now if Donatello will take the encouragement his brother gave him to heart.’

Splinter continues on his path.  Whatever the outcome he always wished his children happiness no matter what form it took.

= = =

Donatello makes himself busy with gathering the supplies he needed.  Butterflies shimmer in his stomach as he waits for the telltale squeak of the old stool that means someone was using it.  He is not disappointed as the stool squeaks with applied weight.  Donatello tosses a small smile over his shoulder at Raphael and turns quickly to gather up his medical supplies.  He bites his cheek and turns to face a very still Raphael.  Disappointment echoes through as he notices Raphael was doing his utmost to not look at him.

“You need to tempt him out, bro.”

Donatello straightens as Michealangelo’s words snap into his mid.  The advice had been a surprise and been unsolicited and accompanied by a quick dismissal.  But Michealangelo had persisted and dragged a confession from Donatello about having feelings for Raphael that were anything but brotherly.  A flush combs over Donatello’s cheeks, he quickly fights it back.

‘Our sweet little Mikey, always knowing things we don’t want to share,’ Donatello quips to himself.

He focuses on Raphael and has to bite his lip to keep from gasping out.  The sweat that glistened on Raphael’s darker skin tone had caught Donatello’s eye, making the bigger warrior much more alluring when he shifted and the sweat ran over his skin.

Donatello sets the medical supplies down loudly next to Raphael and backtracks to a cabinet. While he wanted to get a clean towel, this also put some distance between the two of them so Donatello could breathe.  He fumbles with the latch as he tries to stop his hammering heart.

‘Gotta be alluring and tempting,’ he scolds himself.

With his eyes closed, he is not watching anything and yanks the cabinet door open harder than he intended.  It gives his beak a sound smack, making him call out.  He jumps back and snaps a hand on the injured area with the shout.  He ignores the fact that his glasses had slipped from his face until the impacted the cement floor.

Donatello winces and looks down.  He sighs heavily.  Embarrassment now coloring his cheeks as he hunches his shoulders.

He is about to bend down to retrieve his glasses, hoping they weren’t broken again, when he feels a large hand on his shell.  He turns wide eyes to look at Raphael who looks steadfastly at the floor.  He is nudged aside, Raphael bending to retrieve the glasses.

Raphael offers the glasses to Donatello.  His eyes finally meeting Donatello’s.  He scratches the back of his head.

“They don’t look broke, Don.”

Donatello feels his heart skip a beat as he nods and takes the glasses.  He takes a steadying breath when he feels his body wanting to reach for Raphael’s warm nearness and the soft timber of his voice.  He rubs at his sore beak and turns to look at the stool instead of reaching for Raphael as he so badly wants to.

“Let’s get you patched up, Raph.”  He gives Raphael a warm smile and has the pleasure of watching Raphael’s cheeks flush and for him for all the world to look timid.

“Yeah.”

Donatello watches Raphael as he quickly moves to take a seat on the squeaky stool again.  He watches the usually fearless warrior look at anything but him again.  And if Donatello was the type to lay a bet, he’d have to give Michealangelo five dollars.  He had said to put it in his words, “Raphie totally has the hots for you, Donnie-boy.”

Running his tongue over his lips, he steals himself and decides to put his heat on the line.  ‘We’ll deal with everyone else later,’ he tells himself to chase away the last trickle of anxiousness that rears its head in the back of his mind.

He was certain that Michealangelo had already approved.  The pointers and constant pokings of “gonna tell him today Donnie-boy” along with those large hopeful puppy eyes meant he was behind this...well whatever it came to be...from the start.  And Donatello was certain too that Splinter would approve as long as they were both happy.  Leonardo may prove to be difficult about it when he learned, not that they had to be in a rush to share anything.  But for right now, Donatello knew the most difficult task would be seeing if Raphael really did return his feelings and if he would be open to the idea of a romantic relationship.

Donatello closes his eyes and square his shoulders.  ‘Can’t know unless you experiment and test your hypothesis.’

Donatello nods and goes over to Raphael who was already taking off his gear to make it easier to fix him up.  Donatello sets his mind to the task ahead of him of patching up the wound, not that he wasn’t appreciating the view from side of his eye.  He even smiles a bit as he watched Raphael slide out of his pants revealing his tail which flickered about.

He snaps his attention back to his task when Raphael straightens.  He closes his eyes when he hears Raphael cracking his shoulders.  ‘Maybe a massage?’  Donatello's libido helpfully supplies as he beats it back with empty threats.

He turns to face Raphael and notices the queer look he is being given.  Though Donatello would perhaps never be as perceptive of others as say Michealangelo or even Leonardo, he was fairly certain that Raphael seemed to be relaxing more.  The lower dip to Raphael’s shoulders and his more open stance was usually a good indicator of this.

Donatello bites his cheek.  ‘Calm down,’ he tells his heart.  ‘He hasn’t said no or yes yet.  Remember what Mikey said.  He’ll be like a cat.  Be gentle and patient.’  Donatello smiles broadly at Raphael and motions to the stool.

He kneels and applies some antiseptic to a clean cloth to wipe off the wound and sweat.  He leans closer than he should but the heat wafting off Raphael’s skin is a tempting allure.  He lingers, touching the cleaning cloth to skin to wipe away blood longer than strictly necessary.  Donatello shifts to drag the cloth down Raphael’s leg.  He can feel keen eyes on him.  He keeps his movements slow and the strokes light when he is able.  ‘A lighter touch teases and invites,’ he recites the words of those books that coached others on how to touch a lover for the first time.

While he feels a slight warmth in his cheeks, Donatello refused to shy away.  He puts aside the dirty cloth and reaches for a salve that would deaden an area to pain or other stimulation when applied.  It acted very much like a local shot of an anaesthetic except in topical form.  He uses another clean rag to scoop out a good sized gloop.  However a hand catches his wrist, stopping him before he can apply any to the now clean wound.

= = =

Raphael tightens his grip on Donatello’s wrist for a moment before drawing the hand with the salve away from his leg.  He lock eyes with Donatello and shakes his head at the questioning look.

“Don’t need that stuff, Don.”

He hesitates to look deeper into brown eyes, but he could not bring himself to look away.  Not when his heart was in his throat and the urge to take Donatello in his arms to hold was rampaging through him like a typhoon.  He swallows thickly and breaks skin contact to shift back and bring his injured leg closer to Donatello.

Raphael does look away from Donatello then to focus on a point on a wall.  He stills his body that wants to twitch and lean into that touch that had teased an internal reaction from it just a few minutes ago.  Raphael was uncertain if Donatello had meant to do that or if his mind was just working the touches into a tempting seduction in answer to the thoughts raging in his mind.

He hunches himself just enough so that he can wrap his fingers around the rungs of the stool.  He takes a steadying breath and disconnects himself from the pain radiating up from his leg.  When he feels the light touch on his skin, he looks at the top of Donatello’s head.

The urge to reach forward and touch swaps Raphael’s mind even as he tries to disconnect himself from the way Donatello’s sure fingers feel against his flesh.  The sting of the needle passing through the edges of his skin to stitch the wound closed doesn’t even register to him as he struggles with to fend off his rising desire.  Raphael can only focus on the coolness of Donatello’s touch on him and how sure it is of the task it was completing.

Raphael draws in a quick breath and holds it as the need to feel Donatello warm beneath his touch nearly overwhelms his slim control.  He tries to turn inward but his eyes remain focused on Donatello as his heart pounds in his head.

= = =

Donatello draws the stitching thread in a knot and breaks off the dangling edge.  He watches Raphael visibly shakes even as there are attempts to still.  He understands all of Michealangelo’s coaching and tips.  He puts aside the needle and thread before laying both of his hand on Raphael’s knees.  He applies enough pressure to still the vibrations before he looks up into dark eyes.

He smiles at Raphael but remains where he is.  He does not remove his hands nor does he stroke over skin that is now a blazing furnace.  He brightens his expression and projects a calm he did not know he would be capable of given the situation.  He opens his eyes to watch Raphael, and he waits.

He waits as many emotions run through those dark eyes.  He waits as emotions of hope and guilt mesh together in a tangled mess.  He waits as Raphael works through every thought both positive and negative.  He waits and projects as much calm, comfort and unconditional love as he is able.

Finally Raphael’s expression becomes pained and apologetic.  He begins to turn away, shame clear in the way his body moves and flinches when Donatello finally does move.

He is up and wrapping his arms firmly around those broad shoulders that have bore much pain in a life that is still so young even at twenty years.  Donatello cannot stop himself from pressing his lips to Raphael’s forehead.  He pulls Raphael tightly into his arms and pressed more kisses along Raphael’s jaw.

“I love you, Raph,” he whispers and tucks Raphael’s head beneath his chin.  “More than a brother,” he adds in a wobbling tone.  He hesitates when he feels Raphael still in his arms.  Even if it would kill him to see Raphael turn away, he knew that he needed to say this.

He draws a breath and pulls away enough to look into Raphael’s face.  He was prepared for rejection, but what he finds is a quiet unsureness and a hope that could be boundless if given the leans forward to nudge his chance to grow and flourish.  Donatello leans forward to nudge his forehead against Raphael.  He stares into those dark eyes.

“I love you, Raph.”

He watches as Raphael fully acknowledges his words.  He still sees hesitation, but it is quickly fading.

“Don, I’m not-”

Donatello nips the tip of Raphael’s beak.  He chuckles at the answering stunned look and then laughs at the peevish contrite look he is leveled with.  He leans his body again Raphael in answer and wraps his arms about those broad shoulders.  He impishly grins and nuzzles his forehead and Raphael.

“Love you forever and ever.”

“Donnie, that’s,” a small exasperated grunt, “you’re being a goofball.”

“So?” he teases.  “I’m not allowed to be goofy?”

“That’s not,” Raphael’s voice halts in confusion.  Donatello’s smile widens when he feels warm hands settle on his waist.  “You sure you want that?  I mean I,” Raphael stops and looks at Donatello.  “I’m not...I don’t want for you to be hurt.  I don’t want to hurt your heart,” he finishes in a choked whisper.

Donatello’s hands ghost over Raphael’s arms.  He keeps his head pressed where it is; his eyes watching Raphael’s reactions avidly.  He smirks as shiver is drawn from him.  Donatello tugs on Raphael’s wrists and leads his hands back up his body to rest on his cheeks below his own purple mack.  He closes his eyes and guides Raphael’s fingers under the edge of the material.

He lets go and smoothes his hands over Raphael’s arms to finally rest them on the wide expanse of his chest.  Keeping his eyes closed and waiting for Raphael to move on his own accord, Donatello kneads at the hard plastron.  His expression softens when he feels the pounding heart beneath the plates.  He bites lip to help hide his triumphant smile a few nearly breathless moments later as Raphael remove the purple mask.

Donatello opens his eyes and sigh happily at the hopeful look of love that is finally free to reflect back at him from Raphael’s eyes.  He tilts his head when he feels hands on the back of his dead drawing him closer.  He melts into the welcoming and shy kiss with happiness echoing through his mind.

= = =

Raphael draws back from the kiss, uncertain of what to do next.  There was still a need  hesitate banging at his mind.  He leans against Donatello hugging him close.  For now he would do just that.  ‘It is alright to take things slow,’ he reassures himself.

“What?”

Raphael draws Donatello’s chin up so that he can look at him.  “Donnie, I need...I-”

Hands smooth over his body.  “What is it, Raph?”

Raphael curses his inability with words.  He lifts the edge of his mouth and shuts his eyes tightly trying to find the right words to tell Donatello he loved him back but needed to keep things from falling too far.  Fingers touch his lips to quiet any words.  Raphael looks at Donatello and knows that he understands.

“It’s okay, Raph.  We both need time.  Did you want to,” Raphael watches Donatello glance at the mattress stuffed into a corner of the room.  “I’d like to hold you a little longer if that would be okay?”

Raphael finds himself nodding.  Still unsure about a lot of things, but he did know he wanted to touch his lover.  He starts at the thought for a moment before finaling smiling and nodding his head.

“Yeah,” he says thickly.  “Wanna be close to you right now.”

Raphael feels Donatello draw him up and over to the mattress.  He can feel his heart pound in his nervousness but the captivating cool touch draws him forward from any last doubts.

Donatello draws him into another kiss before telling him to lay down.  As he does Raphael can hear Donatello shedding his gear a moment before there are cool arms about him.

He turns in those arms and wraps Donatello in a fierce embrace.  He finally allows himself to feel the love and hope running wild in his heart.

Raphael gives in to the urge to touch Donatello.  “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.”

Donatello’s smile is gentle and beautiful in its brilliance.  Raphael keeps his touches tender so that there was no risk that he would hurt Donatello.  He pets his fingers over cool skin and shell, feeling his heart fill with joy as Donatello warms beneath his stroking fingers.  Desire is quick to rise in him.  He hesitates when the desire begins to throb in time with his heart nearly overwhelming his sense.  A kiss is pressed to his cheek and he returns it.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

Donatello’s smile glows and he folds Raphael into his arms.  “You don’t know how much I’ve longed to hear that.”

Raphael can hear the hitch in Donatello’s voice.  He feels his own heart waiver with longing.  “I think as long as I’ve wanted to touch and hold you.”

Donatello utters a small laugh.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I love you, Raph.”

They snuggle closer, drawing warmth and coolness together.

= = =

Michealangelo quietly shuts the door.  He is grinning like a cat that had gotten into the cream from what he just saw.  He turns and stumbles back a pace with a start.  “Uh, Splinter, I uh.”

“It is rude to snoop, my son.”  But Splinter is smiling.  “I take it there was success then.”  His look is knowing.

Michealangelo winks and whispers.  “Well I don’t think the had a ‘happy happy woohoo fun time” yet, but they’re definitely snuggling.”

Splinter covers his eyes and rubs the bridge of his snout as Michealangelo laughs.  “Kids,” he grumbles and chases is lude son away.

**Author's Note:**

> The word count made me laugh. XD Suppose to have been maybe a 1,000 words. But eh whatever works works, dude. Happy birthday!! Hope it pleased the palette.


End file.
